False Idols

You try to find a way to disprove all you know to be true,
To justify indulgance in the false idol that is you.
Your values are cut, ripped, torn down to the core,
No better than those of the average wh***.
You're stuck in your own eternal winter,
Running from your problems like an olympic sprinter.
Your fears are buried deep, masked by the day to day drill.
You struggle for companionship, a way to fit the bill.
But your struggle has left all who you trust,
Twisting and suffocating in the toxic dust,
Of your past, your present, and the meager scraps of your future.
The sins of your devilry can only be closed by thread and suture,
Made from holiest verse and martyr's tears.
Uncover yourself, and your buried fears.
The eyes of your peers are fixed on your deliverance to the Trinity,
But you are held by the tyranny of your vices, your fears, and your convulated thoughts of divinity.
So submit,
Or Burn.





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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

NickyJ said...
Feb. 24, 2012 at 6:47 pm
This definitely one of the better poems on this site.

I like the descriptions. You're pretty darn good with Figurative language. The censor of "whore" is ridiculously absurd though...
 
Lovejuice replied...
Mar. 4, 2012 at 5:34 am

I wouldn't say it's one of the better poems, by any stretch of the imagination, but it's in the middle of the pack somewhere.

Getting that kind of compliment from you, though, really makes it all the more meaningful and awesome. I agree that I don't really think the censorship was necessary, but, whatever. The point was still gotten across.

Thanks for reading Nicky.

 
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